


That Shrinking Feeling

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Potions Accident, Shrinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An explosion in the Potions classroom sets off a chain of unlikely events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Shrinking Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [white_apple_ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_apple_ink/gifts).



> **Prompt:** PROMPT #48 submitted by white_apple_ink
> 
>  **Notes:** Thank you, kitty_fic, for a) bringing me back to a fest I love dearly and b) being so supportive and encouraging through the whole thing. This was so much fun to write! Dear prompter, I realise this might not be exactly what you were looking for but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Hermione’s ears rang in the aftermath of the explosion. When she finally came to, her cheek was pressed against the floor. Her eyes opened slowly and a groan escaped her. A charred cauldron rolled next to her and purple plumes of smoke billowed in the air.

Oh, this was not good.

She coughed and tried to sit up, valiantly fighting down a wave of nausea. Through the haze, she could make out the blurred shapes of her fellow Eighth Years, crouched behind overturned desks and slumped on the floor.

“Ron?” she croaked, coughing into her sleeve. “Harry? Is everyone okay?”

“Been better,” a strained voice replied.

Seamus. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. “Where’s Ron? Can you see him?”

“Hey!” Ron’s indignant voice piped up suddenly from the far right. “Where’s my foot?”

Hermione’s heart lurched. “What?!” she shrieked, looking around frantically for her injured boyfriend.

“Oh,” Ron mumbled feebly. He sat up and jiggled his foot, only to find it wedged tight in a cauldron. “Never mind, found it.”

Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Hermione took a deep, calming breath and cast a Clearing Charm. The smoky haze disappeared immediately, much to the relief of her dazed classmates. Some of them stirred, sitting up and blinking as their vision cleared. Hermione, however, groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Merlin, this was bad. The Potions classroom was nothing but soot stains and rubble. Cauldrons rolled and spilt potions bubbled sullenly on the floor. Some of the furniture had gone flying into the walls. As for the students...

Seamus was helping a violently coughing Dean up. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones both looked a little worse for wear. Fortunately, Neville had recovered enough to get some Pepper Up from Slughorn’s private stores. He was helping the girls get back on their feet. Meanwhile, Zabini was crouching in front of a pile of broken chairs and...yelling at them, apparently.

“That’s it, Theo! You’re doing great! Crawl towards the light, mate.”

Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Normally, she made it a point not to generalise or hold on to old grudges but with the Slytherins, she admitted defeat. They were all nutters. And speaking of the aforementioned nutters, Parkinson at least, had recovered enough to launch an Inquisition.

“I’m not _suggesting_ you did it, I’m _saying_ you did it!” she hissed at a rather affronted Seamus. “Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t _you_ usually the one causing explosions, Destructo Boy?”

Seamus perked up at once. “So you did notice,” he declared with a cocky grin. He sidled over smoothly and slung an arm around Parkinson’s slim shoulders. “Well, Princess, I don’t like to brag or anything but I did bring down an entire section of the roof once.”

Parkinson stared at him like he was something unpleasant on the underside of her tiny, horrendously expensive shoe. “I’m going to help Blaise,” she finally announced, pushing him off and making her way to Zabini.

Seamus watched her leave with a rather appreciative expression before turning back to the rest of his classmates. “Seriously, though. It wasn’t me. I was nowhere near that blast.”

Hermione froze in her tracks. A thought struck her at Seamus’s words and it wasn’t pleasant. “Then who was?”

The boys stared at her. Ron stopped struggling with his cauldron. Even Zabini and Parkinson turned around, suddenly concerned.

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath. “Who’s missing?” she demanded. “Are we missing anyone?”

“It looks like we’re all here,” Ernie Macmillan mumbled, looking around uncertainly.

Hermione turned to Ron at once. His face looked exactly the way she felt. In that one second, they both knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Harry,” Hermione half-whispered. “Harry! He’s not here!”

Zabini got up and dusted his hands off grimly. “Draco’s missing too.”

Concerned murmurs and hushed whispers filled the air.

“Oh Salazar,” Parkinson moaned, dropping her face in her hands. “They finally did it! They blew each other up, didn’t they?!”

“Weren’t they working on a cauldron together?” Susan asked carefully.

Hermione bit her lip to stave off an unladylike bout of cursing. _She_ had suggested that Harry pair up with Malfoy today. He hadn’t liked the idea one bit but she’d coaxed him into it with a lecture on inter-house unity. The truth was...she had just wanted to work on her Draught alone, without Harry mucking up her perfect potion for once. She’d been so stressed about retaking the NEWTS lately, it had just seemed like the easiest thing would be to do it herself. She had talked him into working with Malfoy even though he didn’t want to and now...and now they were both...

This was all her fault.

“Harry?” She circled the class frantically, trying to tamp down a wave of sheer panic as she checked under desks and upturned cauldrons. “Harry, where are you? Answer me!”

“Granger, he’s not here,” Zabini muttered, blocking her path to slow her down. “Neither is Draco. They’re gone.”

“Don’t say that! They have to be here! Just keep looking...”

“Uh, guys?”

Seamus was crouched next to a half-melted cauldron in the back. His expression was perplexed and he was fishing about with his wand. Hermione froze in her tracks, watching him carefully. Finally, he emerged with something, gave it a confounded look and tossed it to Ron. Ron caught it neatly and turned it over in the palm of his hand.

“What the hell?”

Hermione lost patience and hurried over to look, only vaguely aware that the rest of the class was right behind her. A crowd formed around Ron. He held his hand out.

In his palm, Hermione swore, sat the tiniest shoe she had ever seen. It was about the size of her fingernail and made of soft, brown leather. What in the world...? Hermione plucked the shoe from Ron’s hand and held it up to the light. There was no doubt about it. This was a very expensive, very small, handcrafted Italian leather loafer. And that tiny scuff mark near the sole suggested that it had been worn before. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had definitely seen this shoe before.

Only then, it had been much bigger and on Malfoy’s left foot.

“That’s Draco’s,” Parkinson confirmed in a horrified whisper. “He bought them just last week!”

Oh Merlin. Hermione sat down shakily. Her fist clenched tightly around the tiny shoe as the implications of the situation sank in.

Ron looked confused, and vaguely uncomfortable. “Does Malfoy have a secret doll collection we don’t know about?”

Parkinson almost bared her teeth at him. “Of course not, you imbecile! It’s not a doll’s shoe, it’s _Draco’s_ shoe!”

“But it’s...”

“Will you please just catch up?!” Parkinson shrieked and stamped her foot.

“Don’t do that!” Hermione yelled, grabbing hold of her and pushing her into a chair. Parkinson tried to push her off. Hermione just shook her hard. “Watch where you’re planting your big feet, Parkinson,” she snapped angrily. “They could be anywhere.”

Parkinson paled as realisation set in. She swallowed audibly and pulled her legs up at once.

“Can someone explain what’s going on here?” Dean demanded. “Where are Harry and Malfoy? And what was _that_ doing in the cauldron?”

Hermione shared a look with Parkinson. The other girl pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Hermione took a deep breath and launched into an explanation.

“Well, we can’t be sure but there’s a good chance that Harry and Malfoy got into a row while making their potion. Something must have slipped in the brew and caused an explosion. Since they were the closest to the blast, they obviously got the worst of it. Of course, there’s no way to be sure but judging by the tiny shoe it’s _possible_ that they...well, shrunk.”

Silence descended as she finally tapered off.

“Shrunk,” Zabini repeated blandly.

“Yes,” Parkinson confirmed miserably. “I hate to agree with Granger but...there’s no other explanation. They’re tiny and lost and they could be anywhere.”

“Not necessarily,” Neville responded slowly. He looked a bit shell-shocked but at least he was rallying to the cause. “Okay, let’s say they did shrink. They still have to be _here_ , right? We just need to look for them.”

“If they were here, they would have found a way to get our attention,” Parkinson muttered. “I can’t speak for Potter but Draco would have pitched a fit by now.”

“Not if one of us stepped on him,” Seamus muttered.

That got things moving. Shrieks of dismay rang out and furniture scraped against the floor as students clambered on their desks.

“Stop!” Hermione yelled and waved her arms frantically. “Just...stay where you are. One careless move could spell disaster for Harry!”

“Well, gosh, Granger,” Parkinson sneered. “Don’t hurt yourself worrying about Draco or anything.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione snapped. “Obviously, we’re looking for Malfoy too.”

“Well, it would be nice if you mentioned him every now and then, is all I’m saying.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but Zabini beat her to it. “Okay, enough,” he declared firmly. “Obviously, we’re all very worried and this situation is officially out of hand. We need to figure out a plan and fast. In case you haven’t noticed, this castle isn’t exactly the safest place for someone roughly the size of a Cornish Pixie. So, big question: what are we going to do?”

Hermione was on the verge of raising her hand, when she remembered that this _wasn’t_ class and Zabini _wasn’t_ a teacher. But he did have a point. They needed to figure this out right now if they wanted to help Harry and Malfoy.

“Tell McGonagall,” she suggested when nobody else was forthcoming.

“Absolutely not,” Zabini responded immediately.

“What?” Ron snapped, rearing up defensively. “Why the hell not?!”

“Well, for starters,” Zabini replied coolly, “she’s going to kill us.”

Hermione suppressed a groan. She could only imagine what McGonagall’s reaction would be, but Zabini didn’t sound too far off. “Look, I know it won’t be pleasant but what choice do we have?”

Zabini turned to her and crossed his arms. “I say we have a couple of choices. We can try to solve this mess on our own _or_ we can be good, little students and go crying to _your_ former Head of House who, I’d like to just point out, was very clear on what we Slytherins would be in for if anything untoward happened to Harry Potter.”

“Expulsion,” Parkinson clarified bitterly. “Of course, perfect Potter won’t get so much as a detention but Draco will get expelled, for sure.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Neville countered with a frown. “Professor McGonagall has always been fair.”

Parkinson flashed him a venomous smile. “I thought Granger was the resident brown-noser.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Ron spat. “I can think of a few good reasons why _you_ don’t want Harry found.”

“Leave her alone,” Zabini bit out, rearing over Parkinson protectively.

“Yeah, leave her alone,” Seamus added with a frown. “Come on, Ron, why do you want to bring up old grudges anyway? Shouldn’t we be thinking about Harry and Malfoy?”

As if on instinct, they all turned back to Hermione, regarding her expectantly. She sighed and shook her head. This was _not_ the plan she’d hoped for, but they didn’t have a choice. “Zabini’s right,” she muttered, much to Ron’s dismay. “We can’t go to McGonagall. She’s disappointed enough with all the rows we’ve been having, she won’t stand for this. For all our sakes, let’s hope we can find Harry and Malfoy before anyone figures out they’re missing.”

There were reluctant mutters and grudging nods all around. Nobody wanted to risk the wrath of the Headmistress.

“How are we going to find them?” Susan asked with a heavy sigh. She shared a weary look with Hannah. Understandable, Hermione thought. Now that they were Eighth Years, the few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who’d come back almost always got caught in the Slytherin-Gryffindor crossfire. If she were in their place, she’d be pretty fed up with it too. Maybe it was time to put House differences away once and for all. Harry and Malfoy would certainly need all the help they could get.

“We’ll split up,” Hermione decided. “Teams of two. We’ll scour the castle until we find them. And...I also think it would be best if we had two people from different Houses in each team.”

“Granger, this isn’t a team building exercise!” Parkinson groaned. “We need to work with the people we know best so we can get it done faster!”

Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. “Well, Pansy, so far it’s not done us a whole lot of good, has it?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Zabini groaned, stepping in between them decisively. “Teams of two. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. I pick Weasley.”

“What?” Ron sputtered. “Why?”

“Ron, just go with him,” Hermione sighed. “I have to figure out an antidote for a Shrinking Potion anyway. Nott, you’re good at Potions. Care to help?”

Nott just shrugged and she decided to take that as a yes.

Neville kept the ball rolling and picked his partner. “Hannah.”

Hannah blushed and hurried over to his side.

Seamus grinned and strode over to Parkinson. “Well darling, looks like it’s just you and me.”

Parkinson flashed Hermione a dirty look. “I’ll get you for this,” she threatened, before grabbing Seamus’s arm and dragging him off.

“Fine,” Hermione agreed. “Susan, you get Dean, okay? Everyone else, find a partner and get going. Look everywhere and for Godric’s sake, watch where you step.”

****

Harry couldn’t believe it had come to this. He was six inches tall, stuck in a crack under the floorboards, sitting on an overturned inkwell and watching Draco Malfoy pace the length of their little shelter with one shoe.

“Malfoy.”

More pacing.

“Malfoy.”

Pace. Pace. Pace.

“Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake, you’re making me dizzy.”

Malfoy stopped short and stared at him. “I’m small,” he noted blankly.

Harry cleared his throat and took an uneasy step back, just in case Malfoy flew into a murderous rage. “Uh, yeah. We were fighting and we spilt lacewing flies into the Potion and it exploded, remember? And then we woke up here.”

“And now we’re small,” Malfoy clarified.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Right, I thought so.”

And back to pacing he went. Harry groaned and got up, barring his path. “Please stop. You’re freaking out right now and it’s making me very uncomfortable.”

Malfoy tried to shove past him and Harry lost patience and grabbed his shoulder. That was one step too far. Malfoy whirled around to face him, teeth bared. “Potter,” he hissed. “I’m six inches tall. We’re stuck somewhere under the Potions classroom. If and when we get out of here, McGonagall is going to expel us. You heard her last time, didn’t you? _One more row, Potter and Malfoy, and_ _I’ll personally sign your papers._ Tell me again, why _shouldn’t I_ freak out?And if you’re about to launch into some noble, nauseating spiel about how everything will be alright if we just work together, let me save you some time. You do or say anything that can even remotely be classified as grandstanding, and I’ll rip you to shreds, understand? Get the picture? **_Comprende?!_** _”_

“Alright, alright!” Harry snapped, holding his hands up in a gesture of placation. “You win. We’re screwed and we’re going to die in a hole in the floor. Happy?”

“Thank you. Was that so hard?”

Harry gave up and went back to his inkwell. Merlin, it was big. Everything was big. As Harry looked around their hideout and spotted various discarded knick-knacks, he realised just how small he was. That half broken quill was twice his height. He could easily sleep in the inkwell. A little further off was a Sickle he could probably skate on, given the inclination. And if he had two pencils and a half decent Sticking Charm, he could probably make a serviceable catapult out of that old red hair-tie gathering dust in a corner.

Harry’s gut twisted uncomfortably. Suddenly, he felt very, very small and very, very lost. The only thing that was remotely his size in this place was Malfoy and Malfoy was losing his marbles.

“We have to get out of here,” he blurted suddenly.

“And do what?” Malfoy muttered. “Potter, there are probably Doxies out there larger than us. We go out there and we get killed.”

“We stay here and we’re dead anyway!” Harry argued. “Malfoy, come on. I know Hermione can fix this. We just have to find our way back to the Eighth Year Common Room and we’ll be okay! McGonagall never has to know. Trust me, we’ll be alright if we just work togeth...”

Malfoy’s eye twitched dangerously and Harry hastily swallowed up the rest of his fine speech. “If we get there and...do that thing I said,” he amended lamely.

Malfoy exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And we’ve tried every spell we could think of?” he enquired.

Harry shrugged and cast another Engorgio on himself. The spell withered away and his wand sputtered in protest. Whatever they had brewed in that vile cauldron, it had stuck and good. Or maybe his size was affecting his capacity to cast a spell, he couldn’t tell. At least the display served to convince Malfoy.

“Our Common Room is at the other end of Hogwarts,” he pointed out quietly.

Harry nodded tersely. “Then we better get moving. Come on, I think I see a crack of daylight down that way.”

****

“Harry? Psst, Harry! You in here, mate?”

Ron crept through the dimly lit Trophy Room, with his wand held aloft. His Lumos bounced off the brass and silver, sending rays of light across the room. Zabini sauntered in behind him, looking bored out of his mind.

“Draco, if you’re in here, send up our Emergency Flare.”

Ron frowned. “You lot have an Emergency Flare?”

Were all Slytherins paranoid nutters?

Zabini side-eyed him and shrugged. “It pays to have a crisis system in place,” he explained shortly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Slytherins tend to trip, accidentally get hexed and have potions explode in their faces a lot lately.”

“Oh,” Ron supplied weakly. He hadn’t exactly noticed. Should he have noticed?

Zabini shook his head and crouched down, shining a Lumos into dark corners. “Well, they’re not here,” he finally declared. His expression was tight and his fists were clenched in frustration. “Let’s go.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. Of course, he’d known that Zabini and Malfoy were friends, but one didn’t exactly think of Slytherins as the friendly _..._ type _._ Then again, Zabini looked worried - or as worried as he could look with a stick up his arse. Still, it was something.

“You’re really worried about Malfoy, aren’t you?” he asked.

Zabini gave him another inscrutable look. “Of course I am,” he replied crisply. “The blighter owes me money.”

Ron nodded solemnly. He didn’t speak Snake but that sure sounded like _‘yes, he’s my friend and I’m scared for him’_. Apparently, Slytherins did have feelings. Who knew?

“I get you,” he added with a conciliatory nod. “Harry...owes me money too.”

Zabini nodded sharply and turned on his heel. “I’m checking the bathroom,” he announced in a tone that suggested this conversation was over.

And then he left, shoes clacking purposefully down the hall.

Ron rolled his eyes and followed. Human sentiment, an actual conversation _and_ a dramatic exit from a born and bred Slytherin, all in one day. Wasn’t he just the luckiest?

****

In the light of his new life as a field mouse, Draco had started compartmentalising his feelings. Panic? Later. Regret? No time for that. Anxiety and hysteria? No, thank you.

At the moment, he had two goals: a) follow Potter and b) try not to think about how Potter’s hair was even worse in the back.

So far, they had been trudging on for the better part of an hour, making their way through the warrens and cracks under Hogwarts. It was dark and damp and more than once, he thought he saw shadows moving in the dark corners. Draco just kept on walking with his eyes on the prize— ‘prize’ of course, being Potter’s near-sentient mop, bobbing determinedly in front of him.

“We made it!” Potter exclaimed suddenly. “There’s our way out!”

Draco craned his neck to look. The ‘way out’ was a caught shoelace, hanging from a crack in the boards. If they climbed it like a rope, they could crawl out from under the floor boards and be back out in the open. The open with students running down the halls and owls swooping about and...

“No,” Draco declared firmly. “Let’s keep walking.”

“What?” Potter blurted. “Malfoy, don’t be ridiculous. We’ll go much faster when we get out of here. I know the castle, I don’t know the pipes.”

Draco squared his shoulders. “Be that as it may, this way is _much_ safer. Unlike certain people I won’t mention, I prefer not to have a near brush with death every week. Actually, I changed my mind about the not mentioning thing. It’s you. ‘Certain people’ is _you_ , Potter, and you’ll get us both killed if you go out there.”

Potter huffed and a stray lock flew out of his eyes. “Now you’re just being paranoid.”

“Paranoid and safe!”

“Malfoy, we don’t have a choice. We have to...”

“Potter, stop being a hero and just work with me, for Merlin’s...”

“Of for the love of Godric, fine!” Potter snapped. “If you want to wander down here forever, that’s fine. I’m going up there to find someone who can help us, and you can just...just stay here!”

Draco gaped as he stomped off and hoisted himself up on the shoelace. Potter made his way up determinedly under Draco’s disapproving eye.

“Potter, stop it,” Draco ordered when the idiot was high enough to break his neck.

“I’m halfway there!”

“Potter, get down here right now. That thing is not stable!”

“But I’m almost th- **aah!”**

The lace snapped and Potter shrieked as he fell. Draco reacted on instinct. “Levicorpus!” he yelled, brandishing his wand. Thank Salazar, it worked. Potter floated to the ground without a scratch on his stupid, fat head.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, sitting up with a grin. “Sharp spell-work there, Malfoy!”

The idiot didn’t even have the sense to comprehend how badly he could have been hurt. Typical Gryffindor. Draco huffed and walked away without a word, turning his wand on the shoelace.

“Reparo,” he chanted, fixing the snap up easily. A few more spells and the lace was hanging from the boards again, with a Sticking Charm firmly in place. Draco gave it a firm tug. It held. Apparently, his wand was still good for some spells. Small ones, but it was something.

“Okay,” he muttered, grabbing hold and hoisting himself up. “Follow me, Potter, and for Merlin’s sake, try not to get yourself killed this time.”

****

“Well, they’re not in here,” Hannah announced, checking under the desks again for good measure. “I guess the Charms Classroom is off our list.”

Neville nodded distractedly, trying to keep his eyes on the floor where Harry and Malfoy might be. They were certainly nowhere near Hannah’s skirt. Neville knew. He had checked.

A hot flush crept up his face and he busied himself by reaching under the desk to help her out. “There are so many good ways to spend a Saturday,” he grumbled. “I could have been out in the greenhouses by now, but _no._ ”

“I know how you feel,” Hannah agreed. “It’s been a stressful year. I don’t remember being this tense last year and...well, you know what last year was like.”

Neville nodded sombrely. He would have thought that after that nightmare of a year under the Carrows’ sadistic thumb, people would have wised up enough to let the past go. Unfortunately, the situation between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins had only worsened. Privately, he blamed Harry just a little bit. Well, of course the man had been through a lot but really, all he had to do was leave Malfoy alone! And Malfoy! What kind of idiot starts a row near a volatile Potion? Neville was a disaster at it and even he knew better!

Why couldn’t they just leave each other alone? And why did everyone else have to clean up after them all the time? Mentally, he made a note to have a nice, long talk with Harry...if they ever found him, that is.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah spoke up suddenly. “I’m being petty. Harry’s a really nice person and well, Malfoy might be a git but even he deserves to be a normal height again. Just...forget I said anything, okay?”

Neville sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “This is our fault. The Gryffindors. And the Slytherins too, I suppose. Sometimes we forget there are two other Houses at Hogwarts. You lot deserve a normal year for once. Nobody should have to deal with this dumb pissing contest we have going on. It’s stupid and childish and...well, I’m sorry.”

Hannah smiled and nudged his shoulder playfully. Her brown eyes danced in the sunlight and Neville swallowed again.

“It’s not so bad,” she said softly.

Neville’s eyes widened as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Come on,” she urged, tugging his arm. “Let’s go look downstairs again, yeah?”

****

Harry crawled out from under the floorboards, panting for breath. “Merlin, that was...intense,” he gasped, rolling on his side. “We’re probably halfway there by now, right?”

Malfoy loomed over him, his face pinched with disapproval. “You’re kidding, right? Look around, Pothead.”

Harry turned his head and promptly groaned as he took in the very familiar green and silver décor of the room. “The Slytherin Common Room? But that means we’re still in the dungeons!”

Malfoy gaped at him incredulously. “What did you expect? We’re six inches tall apiece, Potter! We’ll be lucky if we can make it back to the Eighth Year rooms by nightfall.”

Harry took a deep, calming breath. The urge to scream his frustration did _not_ go away. Morosely, he gazed around the quiet Common Room. A fire crackled in the hearth but that was the only light in the whole place. The Lake shimmered behind the windows, casting a bluish green glow. Now and then, a murky shadow flitted into view only to disappear into the watery depths.

“This place gets more depressing every time I visit,” he commented.

Malfoy’s blond head whipped back to him, his face alight with sudden suspicion. “When were _you_ in here?” he demanded.

Harry shrugged wearily. Normally, he’d be happy to hold that little titbit over Malfoy’s head, but right now, he just wasn’t in the mood. “It’s a long story. If it helps, it was just the one time. Trust me, I was _not_ in a hurry to come back here.”

“Well, I could hardly expect you to appreciate these rooms,” Malfoy scoffed. He shouldered Harry aside and walked over to the fireplace. Harry raised an eyebrow as Malfoy sat cross legged on the vast sea of soft green rug next to the hearth. The fire light danced against his features. He looked so tiny sitting there next to the giant, reaching flames. Harry couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d seen Malfoy surrounded by flames. Malfoy had looked terrified then. Now he just looked...peaceful. Peaceful and somewhat...sad.

“Merlin, I miss this place,” Malfoy murmured, staring into the fire. “I used to sit here for hours, just looking at the Lake. It was nice.”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, if you like that sort of thing,” he conceded. He hadn’t really thought of Malfoy as the kind to like that sort of thing. Didn’t Malfoy hate everything on general principle? “Personally, I like bright rooms. Big windows and fresh air. The Eighth Year Room is nice, right?”

“It’s red,” Malfoy mumbled dully. “It hurts my eyes.”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. Okay, so...maybe the Gryffindors had jumped to paint the new Common Room red but nobody had really protested. Sure, the Ravenclaws had added a splash of blue here and there but the Slytherins hadn’t even moved the chairs around a little. They’d just stood sulking in a corner. Harry had assumed they couldn’t be bothered to help. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe _they_ had assumed that nobody would listen to them?

And now, Malfoy was sulking over it.

Harry sighed wearily and approached him. “Look, when we get back to normal, we’ll redecorate the Common Room. It’s your place too, you should have a say in what it looks like.”

Malfoy glared at him. “I don’t care about the stupid Common Room, Potter,” he spat. “It could never look like this anyway.” He turned his morose gaze back to the murky depths of the Lake.

“Maybe not,” Harry conceded. “But it’s better than nothing, right? Call it a gesture from the rest of us.”

Malfoy didn’t respond. He just sat there looking all gloomy and maudlin. Harry was wondering just how long he’d have to sit here while Malfoy pouted, when the blighter spoke up again.

“I want green.”

Drama queen.

Harry rolled his eyes. “We’ll talk about it,” he promised. “Now can we please get moving again? We have a lot of ground to cover and classes are nearly over.”

He didn’t bother to mention that if they wanted to keep their predicament a secret from McGonagall, it wouldn’t do to let a group of inquisitive First Years see them. Malfoy seemed to share the sentiment because he nodded and got up. “We’ll wait by the door until someone comes in. Then we’ll sneak out, go up the stairs and down the first corridor. From there, it’s a straight walk to the Eighth Year Quarters,” he said decisively.

Harry could work with that plan. He had only gone a few paces when Malfoy stopped him with a sharp tug.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I almost forgot,” Malfoy mused thoughtfully. He padded back to the Room and slipped under a sofa. Harry watched in confusion until he finally re-emerged, dragging a gigantic brown paper bag behind him.

“The...First Years...always hide their stash...in the most obvious places,” Malfoy panted. He dragged the bag out with one last superhuman tug and it spilt over. Malfoy whooped in triumph and slipped inside. Harry watched as the bag tilted and shuffled, as Malfoy searched determinedly for...something in there.

A few seconds later, two festive strawberry-flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans rolled out. Harry gaped in speechless wonder at the giant sweet. Merlin, It was big! He would probably need both hands to hold it. His mouth watered and for the first time since this appalling incident, he actually felt like smiling.

“There you go, Potter,” Malfoy proclaimed with smug triumph. He clambered out of the bag, dusted his hands off and commenced the laborious task of rolling the candy beans across the floor. “Say hello to lunch.”

****

“Draco Malfoy, if you don’t come out here right this minute, I’m telling your mother!”

Seamus paused in his inspection of a rusty bucket and gaped at Pansy.

“It always worked when we were kids,” she supplied with a shrug.

“Well, he’s not here,” Seamus confirmed, tipping the bucket over. “Or here,” he added, moving a broken broomstick aside to peer into the supply closet. “Or anywhere else we’ve looked,” he finished with a weary sigh.

“Brilliant,” Pansy muttered, perching on top of the upturned bucket. She held her hand up and her brow furrowed in disapproval. “Isn’t that just perfect? I chipped a nail!”

“Well, we have been digging around in closets all day,” Seamus replied with a shrug. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is for me,” she replied tersely. “Excuse me a minute, Finnigan. I have to fix myself. My hair is a fright...”

Seamus stared as she transfigured a sponge into a silver hairbrush and commenced preening. Uh, okay?

“Look,” he tried, “I’m all for personal grooming but can we do this later? We’re still no closer to finding Harry and Malfoy. I really don’t think we have time for this right now.”

“There’s always time to look presentable,” Pansy replied with a delicate huff. “Of course, I don’t expect you to understand but some of us like to look nice.”

Seamus blinked in confusion. “But you always look nice,” he argued. “You look nice right now!”

Pansy gave him an incredulous look. “You _must_ be joking,” she declared. “Have you seen the state I’m in? My hair’s a mess, I have a chipped nail and I lost my favourite earring mucking about in that last closet! I look like a troll!”

“No, you don’t!” Seamus snapped, getting a bit frustrated now. “You’re the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen!”

Pansy blinked in surprise. “I am?” she questioned hesitantly. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why would you say that? What’s your angle, Finnigan?”

Seamus groaned and held his head in his hands. He didn’t understand Slytherins, he understood women even less and somehow, he’d got himself a two-for-one going on here. Finally, he figured he would just be honest. Really, how much worse could he possibly do with Parkinson? She already hated his guts. “There’s no angle,” he told her firmly. “I said you’re beautiful because you are. That’s it.”

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. “Oh,” Pansy spoke up. “So you just...say what you’re thinking because you’re thinking it?”

Sounded about right. “More or less, yeah.”

“I see,” she murmured, frowning quizzically as she puzzled out the strange concept. “Gryffindors are weird.”

Seamus rolled his eyes and tossed a sponge at her. He snickered at her shriek of affront, for all of two seconds...after which a mop smacked him in the face. Pansy laughed and skirted away as he made a grab for her. Before he knew it, Seamus was engaged in a childish sponge throwing, mop wrangling, semi wrestling Battle Royale which ended with him grabbing her dainty little fists squarely and pulling her until she tumbled into his chest. Her smile faded as she stared up at him with those big, brown eyes and mile long lashes. She bit down on her bottom lip and Seamus couldn’t help himself. He was leaning in, being pulled in by some strange magnetic force beyond his control and Pansy wasn’t moving away either, her eyes were wide and expectant and...

...and Seamus stepped in the bucket.

He went squawking and flailing as he lost his balance. Pansy shrieked as she was pulled alongside him as he went crashing to the floor. The mops and brushes joined them with ceremony, tumbling and rattling and raining down on the hapless occupants.

When the dust cleared, Seamus was wearing yet another bucket and Pansy looked murderous.

“You clod!” she screeched, slapping at his chest and pushing him off. “Look what you did! This was a brand new skirt, Finnigan! Merlin, why did I get stuck with a boor like you? You barbaric neanderthal...”

Seamus sighed and sat up just in time to see her storming off, still cursing him to oblivion.

He just hoped the others were having better luck than him.

****

Harry was tired. His feet hurt and his sides ached. “How long have we been walking?” he asked. Merlin, it even hurt to talk.

“About an hour,” Malfoy replied. There was no bite in his tone, not even the slightest suggestion of snark. He just sounded dull and weary. Harry was starting to worry about him.

“Okay, so that’s one hour of walking down the corridor. How far have we come?”

“Halfway down the corridor.”

Harry groaned and he might have collapsed there and then if Malfoy hadn’t grabbed his arm. “Come on,” Malfoy said, sounding rather exhausted himself. “Let’s take a break.”

They shuffled off to one side and found a discarded napkin. Malfoy smoothed out the wrinkled tissue and made camp. Harry decided to take his example. For a moment, they sat there in silence. It was still daylight but classes were almost done. Soon, the students would be returning to their Common Rooms. They would laugh and talk by the fireplace, sit in comfy, appropriately sized chairs and then go to sleep in their comfy, appropriately sized beds.

Harry missed his bed. He missed his room and his friends. Mione must have figured out what happened by now. She was probably whipping up a counter potion right this minute. The thought was both comforting and heart wrenching.

“Do you think it’s karma?”

Malfoy’s sudden question surprised him.

“Karma?” Harry echoed.

Malfoy shrugged. “You know, like some kind of moral lesson,” he elaborated. “One of those stories where a bloke thinks he can just swagger through life being the biggest man in the room, always making people do what he wants when he wants it, being a complete prat just because? Except now _he’s_ the small one and there’s nobody to bully because _everyone’s_ bigger than him. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve read it somewhere.”

Harry gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. “To be perfectly honest, I think you’ve paid enough without all this shrinking nonsense.”

Malfoy gaped at him uncomprehendingly. “Me? I was talking about you!”

“You...what?!” Harry nearly yelled. “ _I’m_ the swaggering bully in your story?”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Malfoy smirked. Then he frowned and glanced at his foot. “Have I been walking all this while with just one shoe?”

“Forget your stupid shoe!” Harry snapped, rearing up aggressively. “Listen up, Malfoy, because I’m only going to say this once. I’m not a show off. I don’t swagger, I don’t strut and I don’t bully people and make them do things they don’t want to! Unlike you, I don’t have to push people around!”

Malfoy lifted his chin in challenge. “Really,” he bit out.

“Really,” Harry growled defiantly.

_“Really?”_

“Oh, just get to the point!”

Apparently, Malfoy was going to do just that. He braced himself on his hands and gave Harry a searching look. “So, you deny that you’ve kind of been running things ever since we returned to Hogwarts? Tell me, Potter, what colour is the Eighth Year Common Room?”

“Well, red but...”

“That’s right. Not green, not blue and not yellow. It’s red because that’s the colour you and your cohorts wanted and nobody wanted to tell you no.”

“Oh, come on! You could have just said...”

“Who talked McGonagall into letting the Eighth Years continue their DADA and Potions training without supervision?”

“That was Mione! I had nothing to do with...”

“And didn’t you back her idea with an inspiring speech about working together and putting the past behind us, etcetera etcetera? Did you ask for even one non-Gryffindor’s opinion before you decided our entire study schedule for the next year? What did the Ravenclaws say when you threw that out there?”

“It’s not like it’s a bad idea!” Harry snapped. “And you don’t have to...”

“Potter, do you remember what were we fighting about when that potion exploded? The potion which, by the way, exploded during that unsupervised brewing session you so happily volunteered us for?”

Harry opened his mouth to argue but this time he was drawing a blank. “We were, um... wait, don’t tell me...”

Malfoy fixed him with an unrelenting look. “Let me run you through it. Granger wanted to finish her brewing alone. So she talked you into working with me today. Let me repeat, she talked to _you. Not_ me. Nobody asked me if _I_ wanted to work with you. Everyone— yourself included— made that decision without my input. Once you destroyed the brew I’d been working on for a solid month, you and Weasley started exchanging notes. While _I_ was busy fixing the damage you’d done, Weasley was trying to wheedle you into ditching class and going flying. And _you_...”

“I told you I was leaving and that’s when you threw that Flobberworm at me,” Harry finished in a hollow voice. He remembered now. Malfoy had been furious and the row had escalated. Somewhere along the scuffle, Harry’s elbow had hit the table and sent a batch of lacewing flies into the bubbling potion.

Malfoy pursed his lips. “Your exact words were ‘you can take it from here, can’t you Malfoy?’” he added quietly. “And then you just walked off.”

Harry felt the sharp sting of shamein his gut. Even he had to admit he did not come off well in that story. He sounded like an utter prat. “I remember,” he said quietly. “This whole mess is my fault, isn’t it?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Maybe it’s mine. Maybe if I had just let you walk all over me like every time before this, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Honestly, of all the times to grow a spine, Draco...”

Harry managed a surprised bark of laughter at Malfoy’s self-deprecating tone. He hadn’t known Malfoy could do that. It faded away when he remembered their little talk. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Ruining your potion and taking off like that was wrong. I didn’t do it on purpose though. I just...”

“Didn’t think,” Malfoy finished.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a guilty smile. “I guess I’ve become a little used to having things my way. Everything’s just been so easy since the Battle. I suppose I should have wondered.”

“It would seem that way,” Malfoy agreed thoughtfully. “I suppose now that I’m not thwarting your every move, everyone else fell in line too.”

Harry sat up as a thought struck him. “Why did you?” he asked finally. Malfoy gave him a perplexed look and he hastened to elaborate “Fall in line. You never cared who I was before. What changed?”

Malfoy’s expression turned bitter. “Everything.”

Oh. Right.

Harry scrubbed his hair awkwardly before taking a chance and sidling closer to Malfoy. “Well, I’m not going to argue with that. But some things...well, I liked them the way they were before.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted to his face, hesitant and wary. “You did?”

“I guess I didn’t know it then but, yeah I did,” Harry finished awkwardly. “Some things...well, they were okay. When they weren’t being bossy and pretentious, that is.”

“I see,” Malfoy replied with exaggerated solemnly. The twitch of his lips gave him away though. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And if you forget, I’ll remind you,” Harry promised.

He held his hand out to shake on it. Malfoy hesitated only a second before taking his hand. Slim fingers wrapped around Harry’s and his breath hitched slightly. Malfoy’s touch was cool and light but there was no mistaking the strength in those slender fingers.

This was...interesting. Intriguing. He would go so far as to say it was nice, given the circ...

“Potter?”

“Hm?” Harry mumbled, still somewhat distracted by the sensation of Malfoy’s smooth skin gliding against his palm.

“What’s that noise?”

Harry stiffened.

An ominous rumbling cutting through the silence of the corridor, interspersed with the low buzzing of voices. Several voices, all at once. Loud, raucous laughter rang through the air and the clatter of shoes hitting stone floors was growing louder...

“Oh no,” Harry whispered in horror. “We waited too long. Classes are over!”

Malfoy’s hand tightened in his grip. “You mean...”

“They’re coming. It’s a whole mob of Third Years!”

And then the tide descended on them.

Harry gasped as the first wave of students flew by, chattering amongst themselves as they thudded through the corridor. Large, heavy feet thumped and thudded around them as the crowd grew and grew. Students jostled each other, some tripping and other laughing and dodging their classmates. It was a frenzy of chaos and noise and large, thumping feet.

And Harry and Draco were caught right in the middle of it all.

“Take cover!” Harry yelled, pulling Malfoy out of harm’s way. The next second a polished black boot landed smack bang where Malfoy had been standing.

Malfoy stared at the large scuff mark left by the shoe, frozen in pure fright. Harry pushed him forward, dodging shoes and feet for all he was worth as he skittered down the Halls of Death. The dull thuds of a hundred stomping feet echoed around him, nearly drowning out his voice. Merlin, everything was so much louder now that he was tiny!

“Come on!” Harry yelled, pulling Malfoy’s arm for all he was worth. “We have to get out of here before...”

The backpack came out of nowhere. Harry didn’t even notice the raucous group of boys behind them. He was too busy avoiding a series of high heels and stilettos (which, he would like to point out, were strictly against school uniform regulations). He didn’t notice the backpack come flying right for them until it was too late.

“Duck!” Harry yelled. He rolled on his side, got to his feet, skidded and dodged through another horde of trampling feet and made it to the safety of a nearby alcove.

Only then did he realise that Malfoy wasn’t with him.

Harry’s heart lurched. His pulse sped and his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

“Malfoy?” he called.

Nothing. Not a sound save the thrice damned stomping.

“Malfoy?!” Harry yelled, well on his way to a panic attack. “Malfoy, where are you? Answer me!”

Not a peep. Harry staggered to a halt. Malfoy was...gone. He’d been right there and now...he was probably on the underside of some Third Year’s shoe! Malfoy was _dead_ and it was all Harry’s fault and bloody hell, what was he going to do...

“Potter!”

“Malfoy?!”

Harry looked around frantically, searching for a blond head in the ruckus.

“Up here!”

Harry looked up, just in time to see Malfoy’s panic stricken face as he was hoisted up in the air...

...with his sleeve firmly attached to the aforementioned backpack.

“Malfoy!” Harry howled, giving chase. The student slung his backpack on one shoulder and set off on his merry way, with Malfoy dangling in the wind like a very frightened flag.

“Potter, help me!” Malfoy yelled, struggling for all he was worth. “My sleeve is caught in the buckle! I can’t get loose!”

“Malfoy, hang on!” Harry shouted back. “Don’t look down! I’m coming to get you!”

“Hurry! He’s getting away!”

Harry cursed a blue streak as he bolted after the student. A Ravenclaw, as it turned out. Harry took a deep breath and _lunged_ after him as he turned the corner, just grabbing onto the hem of his blue robe.

“Malfoy, I’m coming,” he panted, climbing for all he was worth. “Just hang on!”

It took everything he had and more, but Harry made good on his promise. Despite the jaunty springing stride of their oblivious carrier, he grabbed fistfuls of fabric and hoisted himself up, grabbed a hold of the collar and alighted on the backpack clumsily.

“Hold on!” Malfoy yelled, grabbing his arm.

Harry yelped as the Ravenclaw started moving faster, apparently in a hurry. Then the jostling started — a violent up and down motion that made his stomach churn.

“Stairs,” Malfoy explained. “Don’t look down, Potter. I’ve got you, yeah?”

Harry looked into Malfoy’s grim expression and tried to bolster up his last shred of courage. He nodded and grabbed hold of the backpack’s zipper, holding himself steady as he worked Malfoy free. Meanwhile, Malfoy talked him through it, encouraging him at every step.

“Almost...a little to the left...a little more, that’s it! Potter, you did it!”

Malfoy came free and without a second to lose, Harry grabbed hold of him. They made their shaky way down, sliding down the robe for the last few steps. They tumbled back to the floor and landed in a small, crumpled heap. The Ravenclaw’s footsteps faded away and there was silence once again.

“Malfoy,” Harry whispered, once he rediscovered the wherewithal to move. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Malfoy replied shakily. “You?”

“Fine,” Harry lied. He wasn’t fine. He was still shaking. “I thought...I thought you were dead.”

“Funny,” Malfoy replied, managing a shaky laugh. “So did I.”

“It’s _not_ funny!” Harry growled, helping him up. “That wasn’t funny, you understand?!”

Malfoy blinked in surprise. Harry glared at him, still trembling and scared and _reeling_ from the shock of what he’d just been through. How dare Malfoy laugh? How dare he make light of the fact that he’d nearly died right in front of Harry? Wasn’t once in a lifetime enough? And of course, it wasn’t Malfoy’s _fault_ that he kept getting into these life threatening messes on account of something Harry had done, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with!

Why did Malfoy have to keep almost dying on him?

“Sorry,” Malfoy placated, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “It’s alright, Potter. I’m fine, see? You saved my life.”

“I was...you nearly...” Harry trailed off and scrubbed his hair angrily. His breath was hitched and his vision was blurring at the edges.

“It’s okay,” Malfoy soothed, pulling him over. His arms wrapped around Harry and he traced soothing circles in his back. “It’s okay, Harry. Everything’s alright, I promise.”

No, it bloody well wasn’t. But it was nice of Malfoy to pretend, for his sake. Harry took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Malfoy, trying to find a semblance of comfort in the rapid heartbeat mirroring his own. Malfoy was okay. _Draco_ was okay. They were both fine and in one piece and this nightmare would be over soon.

Draco tightened his hold, humming gently. Harry smiled to himself and closed his eyes. That was actually nice.

“Malfoy,” he mumbled after a beat of soothing silence. “Are you purring?”

Then Draco stiffened in his arms. “No,” he whispered.

The purring was getting louder. Harry felt the whoosh of hot breath against his neck. Draco shifted in his arms and lifted his head.

“Potter...”

His whisper was tinged with pure, unadulterated fear. The hairs on Harry’s neck were starting to stand up. If this was what he thought it was...

“Turn around very slowly,” Draco whispered shakily. “No sudden moves, understand?”

Harry nodded shakily. He disentangled himself from Draco’s grip and turned around. Slitted, green eyes stared back at him, alight with malevolent, predatory glee.

“Oh Godric,” Harry whispered in horror.

The next second, Mrs Norris bared her fangs and pounced.

****

“Well, that should do it,” Hermione said, wiping her brow and giving the bubbling purple potion precisely three counter-clockwise stirs. “Hand me the shoe.”

Nott obliged and put the tiny shoe on the table. Hermione took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth. She ladled some of the Potion into a vial and placed the tiniest drop on the shoe.

A second later, she was blinking as purple smoke cleared and a normal sized, if slightly worse for wear leather loafer was sitting on her desk.

“Yes!” she shrieked excitedly. “We did it, Theo! It worked!”

Nott nodded approvingly. “Beautifully executed, Hermione. Substituting the mistletoe berries with flux weed really pulled it together.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she insisted. It was true, after all. Theo wasn’t much of a talker but he was diligent and efficient and he had a knack for keeping his cool in a crisis. Twice, Hermione’s draught had blown up in her face and she’d almost given up. Theo had kept her on track with reassuring words and a determination to rival the best of Gryffindors. His quiet, calm demeanour was instantly reassuring and she’d found that he was engaging, both as a Potions partner and as a person.

When this was over, perhaps they could take a few advanced classes together.

“Well, we’ve done all we can,” he said. “Let’s just hope the others lucked out and found...”

The door swung open, cutting him off. Hermione whipped around as the others trudged in. Her face fell when she saw the look on Ron’s face. Almost at once, she knew they had failed.

“Nobody?” she asked quietly.

Ron sighed and shook his head. “Nobody,” he confirmed. “We looked everywhere.”

“Sorry, Granger,” Pansy added. She looked close to tears. Seamus made a valiant effort and put a comforting arm around her. For once, she didn’t push him away.

“We could have missed them,” Hannah urged, with a heartening smile. “I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

Neville’s answering smile was strained but he nodded and pulled her closer. “We’ll search again tomorrow.”

Hermione sat back down by her Potion as disappointment washed over her in waves. Tomorrow might be too late. Every second they wasted was one more second that Harry and Malfoy were in danger. And who was to say McGonagall wouldn’t notice something amiss by tomorrow? What would happen then? What would she do if something happened to Harry? Or Malfoy, for that matter...

She was pulled out of her maudlin thoughts by a firm shake. Hermione looked up as Theo sat down beside her.

“You’ve done all you can,” he told her, gently but firmly. “We all have. Now, we wait.”

Hermione nodded tersely and averted her gaze. She was fairly certain he could see the wetness of her eyes and the slight tremble in her lip.

To his credit, Theo didn’t mention it once.

****

**“Run!”**

Harry’s shout echoed through the corridor as they fled for their lives. Mrs Norris might be old, but she was spry and agile and evidently, raised on a strict diet of children’s tears and vampire blood.

Either way, they didn’t stand a chance.

“We don’t stand a chance!” Draco panted, dodging a giant paw. “Harry, it’s over. We’re dead!”

“Not yet!” Harry snarled, pulling him alongside. He had been shrunk, lost, scared, almost trampled...he had not come this far to be eaten by some stupid cat! He was so sick of being small and helpless! It was time to fight back. Harry drew to a halt and squared his shoulders.

He was going to Gryffindor the fuck out of this situation or die trying.

“Hey, Mrs Fleabag!” he yelled, waving his arms frantically. “Over here!”

“Potter!” Draco shouted, stopping in his tracks and staring at Harry in abject horror. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I have no bloody idea!” Harry yelled back.

Mrs Norris swished her tail and hissed at him. She drew back on her hind legs, watching him keenly. One paw rose. Harry swallowed as he caught a glimpse of sharp claws, the size of his arm. But it was too late now.

“Come on then,” he growled, pulling out his wand. “Bring it on, cat!”

Mrs Norris let out a shrill screech and bolted for him.

“Stupefy!” Harry howled.

The spell connected and the cat staggered for a moment. She shook her head, looking slightly dazed. Then those yellow green eyes focused on Harry again and she snarled angrily.

“Potter, you idiot!” Draco yelled. “You’re too small to cast a strong spell! It’s no more than an insect bite to her! Run!”

“No!” Harry yelled back. “I’m through running! Stupefy!”

Norris shook the spell off even faster this time. A paw came down with stunning force, batting Harry to the side like he was a fly. Harry groaned as he collided straight into the wall. He crumpled to the floor and watched with dazed eyes as Norris prowled closer and closer...

“Stupefy!”

Norris yowled in affront and jumped back as Draco strode over, looking terrified but determined. His sharp face was pinched in concentration as he dealt blow after vicious little blow to the feline.

“Potter, get up and help me!” he yelled. “This was your — Stupefy! — stupid idea!”

Harry laughed in sheer, adrenalin fuelled delight and picked himself up. This time, his hand was steady when he raised his wand.

It was beautiful.

Draco had deadly aim and his spells were sharp and efficient. Harry covered him, casting spells and dealing blows wherever he missed.

Between the two of them, Mrs Norris faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected a defensive strike. Slowly, she backed off, still making half-hearted hissing noises. But she made no move to pounce on them.

“Stupefy!”

“Stupefy!”

Harry and Draco continued the indefatigable, relentless assault with everything they had and more.

“Come at me, you flea ridden hell beast! Stupefy!”

That did it. One more well-aimed Stunning Spell and Mrs Norris gave way. With one last angry hiss, she bounded away, tail bristling in defeat.

“Yeah, you better run!” Harry whooped in triumph. His heart was pounding and his nerves were fried but he’d done it! Finally, he wasn’t small and worthless anymore! He’d fought the monster and won!

“Potter! Damn it, you idiot! Stop celebrating!”

Firm hands gripped his shoulders and shook him hard. Draco glared at him, looking absolutely furious. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled, shaking Harry until his teeth rattled. “Do you have any idea how dangerous...are you out of your...I am this close to...”

“Finishing a sentence?” Harry prompted cheekily. He couldn’t help it, he was just so happy!

Draco’s eyes flashed and he pointed a threatening finger in Harry’s face. “Don’t you dare try that oh-I’m-just-a-boyish-charming-idiot spiel on me! You nearly died taking on that thing! How dare you?! Do you even think before you...”

Harry kissed him. One minute, Draco was yelling bloody murder at him and then Harry was reaching out for him, tangling his fingers in that soft, blond hair and plying those soft lips with his own. Draco’s struggles and muffled threats melted away, until he was holding on to Harry for dear life and returning the kiss.

When Harry finally pulled back, he realised that something had changed. He’d started this crazy adventure with Malfoy, but somewhere along the way Malfoy had become Draco. Draco who was prudent where Harry was reckless, who was brave when Harry needed someone to hold on to, who worried for him and cared when he nearly got himself killed.

And Harry really liked that. He really liked Draco.

“I like you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against Draco’s again.

“Yes, because that isn’t obvious at all,” Draco grumbled. “Get off, you nutter. I’m still angry.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Draco muttered something under his breath but when Harry leaned in again, he closed his eyes and allowed the kiss— a softer, sweeter kiss, this time. To Harry, it felt like the start of something new and beautiful.

“We’re still screwed, you know.”

And of _course_ Draco had to ruin the moment. Harry sighed as he broke away and started his neurotic pacing again.

“We’re way off course, for one thing,” Draco reported tersely. “Thanks to our impromptu backpack ride and that blighted cat, we’re in the West Tower and on the top floor, thank you very much. At this rate, it’ll take us a week to get to the Common Room and...”

Wait. West Tower? The top floor?

Harry’s eyes widened. He turned and actually took a moment to look around. Could it be? Surely they couldn’t have ended up in...

But they had. Of all the luck! Harry’s heart soared.

He knew this place.

“Draco.”

“...and of course McGonagall will have our heads for this! I don’t even want to...”

“Draco.”

“...not to mention, I can’t even pack! Maybe Granger can shrink our trunks for us when we get expelled...”

“Draco!” Harry grabbed hold of the idiot and turned him around. “We’re saved.”

“What? What are you do...hey!” Draco squawked indignantly as Harry barrelled forward, dragging him along. “Pot...Harry! Slow down! Where are we going?”

“Back to the Common Room,” Harry promised with a grin. “But we’re going to need a ride first.”

Draco dragged his feet in an effort to slow him down. “And just where are you going to find one?” he demanded. “We agreed to keep this a secret for obvious reasons!”

“She’s always kept my secrets,” Harry replied with utter confidence.

Draco didn’t look too convinced. “And just who is this kind soul who will help us out of the goodness of her heart?”

Harry’s grin widened. “One of my best friends in the whole world. She’s usually in the Owlery at this time of night.”

****

The mood in the Eighth Year Common Room was sombre and depressing.

“Well, that’s it,” Zabini declared, casting a Tempus Charm. “It’s midnight.”

“The search is officially closed,” Neville agreed. “We’ve done everything possible.”

“So we’re all in agreement?” Hermione asked morosely. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go to Headmistress McGonagall and...tell her what happened.”

“She’s going to kill us,” Pansy sighed. Seamus frowned and nudged her. “But it will be worth it if we get Potter and Draco back,” she added dutifully.

There were murmurs of agreement and tired smiles all around. Hermione shared a quiet, understanding look with Theo. For what it was worth, at least some good had come out of this incident.

It didn’t make up for what they’d lost but...

“Is that an owl at the window?” Zabini asked suddenly.

Hermione turned instinctively and gasped. The snowy white figure fluttering by the window was unmistakable. “Hedwig! Open that window! Now!”

Ron was there in a flash. Hedwig flew in with a grateful hoot and perched on the sofa. She gave them all a haughty glance before helping herself to a stray treat.

“Good girl,” a voice crooned affectionately. “Thanks, Hedwig. You’ll always be my best girl.”

Hermione froze. The voice was faint, barely audible. But she knew it. She would know that voice anywhere.

“Honestly, Potter. You’re lucky she recognised you and fended the other owls off. We nearly got torn to bits!”

Pansy gasped. Zabini’s jaw dropped. Theo just smiled.

Then Hedwig flared her wings and two, tiny figures jumped off her back and landed squarely on the desk.

“Well,” Malfoy commented, somehow managing to look down his nose at all of them even in his current Thumbelina avatar. “Don’t get up or anything.”

“Draco!” Pansy screeched, making a run for him.

“Harry!” Ron bellowed, following right at her heels.

And the room devolved into chaos.

Hermione could do nothing but watch in speechless wonder as people clambered over furniture, shoved past each other and ran helter-skelter, all making for the desk and the two pint size boys standing proudly on it.

“You’re okay!” Ron exclaimed in relief, scooping Harry up carefully. “Well, for a given value of okay. Merlin, you’re small! Are you any bigger than the Snitch?”

“You’re adorable!” Pansy cooed, petting Malfoy’s head with one finger. “You know, I have this stunning doll house with authentic wooden flooring and...”

Malfoy scowled and batted her away. “I’m not a doll, Pansy. Weasley! Put Potter down this second! Be careful, you clod! He’s not a toy!”

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Neville put in. “You too, Malfoy.”

“It’s nice to have you back, Draco,” Zabini added, picking Draco up and holding him well out of Pansy’s reach.

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Blaise.”

“Of course I was. You owe me money.”

“That’s Slytherin for _I care about you_ ,” Ron whispered to a rather perplexed Dean.

Hermione walked over slowly, dazed and almost scared to believe it. But there it was. Harry was perched on Ron’s shoulder now, tired and scruffy but still cheerful as ever. His eyes lit up when he caught sight of her and she thought she might just burst into tears. Just seeing Harry’s earnest, smiling face again...she’d never been so grateful for anything in her life.

“Mione!” Harry called. “Tell me you can fix this!”

Malfoy poked his head out from between Zabini’s hands. “Granger, if there was ever a time to be an insufferable know-it-all, it’s now.”

Honestly, she couldn’t even take his insults seriously when he was this little. Hermione just smiled and scooped some of the Potion out. “Put them down,” she ordered. “Carefully, please.”

Harry and Malfoy were set down on the carpet. Hermione unstopped the vial and held it out.

“Ready?”

They nodded. Harry’s hand crept over to grip Malfoy’s. Malfoy shifted closer to him. Hermione said a silent prayer, closed her eyes and tilted the vial.

When she opened them again, Harry was in front of her, messy hair and crooked spectacles and all.

And he was a whole four inches taller than her.

Hermione’s heart soared.

Somewhere in the background, she was aware of Parkinson, Zabini and Theo swarming a now fully restored Draco Malfoy, but she couldn’t be bothered to check. All she cared about was Harry. Harry was here. He was back.

“Never doubted you for a second,” Harry teased, nudging her playfully.

Hermione just laughed and pulled her normal-sized best friend in for a long overdue hug.

****

The party went on long after midnight. And for once, it was actually fun— which was more than Hermione could say of some of those initial ‘inter-house unity’ parties she’d tried to organise in the beginning of the year. No, _everyone_ was having a good time for once and she couldn’t help but notice that something had changed in this group.

Parkinson wasn’t turning her nose up at everyone. She was actually sitting with Seamus and Dean, listening gleefully as Dean narrated stories from their early years at Hogwarts — most of which seemed to feature Seamus at his explosive best. Seamus, for his part, was being a good sport about it.

Ron and Zabini were bonding over chess. The two hadn’t said a word to each other, but Hermione could tell that Ron at least, was having a good time. Zabini had an excellent poker face and he was clearly a fair hand at the chessboard, but so far they were evenly matched. It was a good start.

Neville and Hannah were by the couches, huddled close by the fire. Neville laughed at something she said and Hannah smiled and curled into his chest.

The biggest revelation of the night though— that was Harry and Malfoy. Oh, nobody else had seen it yet but Hermione had noticed the shared looks and shy smiles. Malfoy had remained firmly by Harry’s side for the whole evening and when Harry had announced that they should probably think of repainting the Common Room to make it more inclusive, she could have sworn she saw Malfoy smile.

“Those two are going to be an item by next week.”

Hermione started and let out a surprised laugh when Theo sat next to her. “You noticed?” she asked.

Theo shrugged and handed her a glass of Butterbeer. “There’s not much that gets by me. By the way, did you know the library has a rare first edition of Jigger’s _Magical Drafts and Potions?_ I read this fascinating study...”

By the time Hermione and Theo had winded down and promised to set up a study date, the party was officially called off.

Harry and Malfoy were still around but judging by how close they were sitting on the sofa, it would probably be best not to disturb them. To be fair, they’d been through a lot together. Besides, she could always grill Harry for details in the morning.

She gathered her things, said her goodbyes to Theo and started making her way back to the dorm. She was almost there when she heard voices. Hermione stopped and held back, not wanting to intrude.

“So, I was thinking,” Seamus started awkwardly, “about stuff.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “That sounds dangerous.”

Seamus cracked a smile but it faded away at once. “Yeah, well... Harry was talking about how we Gryffindors tend to get carried away and we don’t always listen to what everyone else is saying. I get that and I just wanted you to know that... I hear you.”

“Oh?”

Seamus took a deep breath and rallied on. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you _don’t_ like me and you never will and I’ll try to respect that from now on. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything, I just really liked you. But I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want. I do respect you as a person, Pansy and I don’t want to ma- **mmph!”**

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as Seamus flailed in Parkinson’s grip. When she finally let go of him, Seamus was wide eyed, stunned speechless and he had a very telling series of lipstick marks all over his face. Parkinson’s smile was soft as she wiped a smudge of his cheek.

“Shut up and walk me to the dorms, Finnigan.”

Hermione watched them go with a smile of her own.

Things were definitely looking up.

****

“...and the cat chased them all the way to the Owlery?”

“That’s correct, Headmistress.”

“Where they discovered Potter’s owl and flew back to the Eighth Year Quarters?”

“That’s what the other portraits told me.”

Headmistress McGonagall pressed a hand to her temples. One of these days, she promised herself that she would set a retirement date.

“At last check, they were restored and back to normal,” a portrait of Greta Catchlove reported. The other paintings nodded in agreement. “We can also confirm that things between the Eighth Year students are significantly better now. They seem to have let go of old grudges in the light of their newest...adventure.”

Minerva’s eye twitched. _Adventure_ was hardly the word she would use to describe this debacle. On the other hand...

“Better, you say?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Greta confirmed with a smile. “In fact, if I may be so bold, Headmistress, I’d say that Hogwarts and her students are finally starting to heal.”

Well, that was something to consider.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Minerva promised. “And, do keep me posted on their situation, won’t you?”

“We always do, Headmistress.”

Minerva took her leave and made her way back to the office, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. On one hand, those children had some nerve thinking they could keep a secret from her after all these years. Potter, Weasley and Granger at the very least, should know better.

Then again, they had come through for each other. All of them. It was...somewhat reassuring, even if they had brought down a classroom and shrunk two students in the process.

Really, she should _at least_ give them a detention. It was only proper. She was the Headmistress, after all. There were procedures to be followed and standards to be upheld.

_Hogwarts and her students are finally starting to heal._

Minerva sighed as she mulled over the words. Words she’d needed to hear for a long time. Perhaps, some things were more important than due process.

Very well. She would hold her silence for now. The Eighth Years had started something, after all and they should be allowed to see it come to fruition.

She was still going to keep an eye on those incorrigible brats, though. Oh, she planned to watch them like a hawk.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave kudos and a comment for the author!
> 
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